


To Forgive Wrongs Darker than Death or Night

by toeshark



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: (so much angst), Angst, Betrayal, Cheating, Conflicting Feelings, Ethan swears and breaks stuff a lot, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Kinda, M/M, One shot (probably), Self-Hatred, Sexual Tension, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toeshark/pseuds/toeshark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Brona?”</em> Ethan chokes in disbelief. Is his mind deceiving him? Is it the drink? Has the time clouded his memory or is that really her?<br/>She looks him in the eye, then- with an expression he cannot read.<br/>[Ethan discovers what Victor did. Things happen as a result. Set sometime after the events of season two.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Forgive Wrongs Darker than Death or Night

_“Brona?”_  Ethan chokes in disbelief. Is his mind deceiving him? Is it the drink? Has the time clouded his memory or is that really her?

She looks him in the eye, then- with an expression he cannot read.

Having remained safely within the walls of Sir Malcolm's mansion for three days after he arrived back in London, Ethan only intended to go for a short walk to clear his head. But happening upon Dorian Gray in Hyde Park with what seemed to be a fair-haired doppelganger of the late Brona Croft was the last thing he expected...or hoped for.

“She  _was_  Brona, once,” Mr Gray answers for her, a smug grin on his face, “and is no longer.”

Ethan clenches his fists. Dorian- the bastard- couldn’t care less about anyone but himself. And he definitely doesn’t deserve Brona, if that’s indeed who this is.  “You better tell me what the fuck is going on or I swear to God-”

“How about _I_  tell you...?” the woman interrupts, her accent a far cry from the Irish Brogue he knew so well. “...Since I’m the pivot of this conflict.”

Both men are quiet. Dorian catches Ethan’s gaze with an entertained expression, and Ethan scowls back.

Then she tells him. Everything.

“...When Lily here finally tired of playing games with the doctor, she came to me,” Dorian pipes up, wrapping one arm around her waist. “Someone who understands her. Someone who supports her vow of revenge on all the men who wronged her, in this life and her last.”

“That’s right,” she smirks.

Ethan’s head is spinning at what he’s just heard but somehow he maintains a rock solid composure. “That’s  _impossible_.” He says through gritted teeth. “You’re lying. I don’t know what the Hell this is but you can bet your sorry asses I’m not accepting that piece of shit cover story.”

“You really don’t believe me, Ethan?” the woman walks closer, taking him by surprise as her voice suddenly resembles Brona’s old Dublin accent. He flinches; realises she’s suddenly right next to him, whispering in his ear. “Who am I if not your Brona, reborn? Am I not the woman you met in the Mariner’s Inn? Am I not the one you always believed you could save? The one you never had time to grieve for?”

The words sting some unhealed place in Ethan’s heart.  _God, surely it can’t be true_ , he thinks.  _Everything she said, about what happened to her, and how, and who was responsible..._  but right now- no matter how much he tries to reason with himself- feeling her lips against his cheek, he just  _knows_  it’s her.

The new Brona unbuttons the top of her coat to reveal the faint outline of autopsy scars covering her chest. “Victor Frankenstein did this to me.” She declares. “He’s the one who deserves to be punished."

***

When Doctor Jekyll offered that Victor stay with him for a while to recover from his depression and anxiety, Victor gladly accepted- almost anywhere now being preferable to his own residence which, if he were the type to believe in such things, he’d say was haunted by evil. He has only returned briefly, therefore, to retrieve a few books, along with what little spare clothing he owns, and any remaining bottles of morphine that haven’t already been drained of their contents. Then he will be gone.

Putting everything into a small suitcase, he glances past the scalpel on the counter and tries his best not to think about the sharpness of its blade, its promise of oblivion. His own cowardice is the reason he isn’t long dead from suicide. But he still thinks about it, every day, and has done for such a large proportion of his life that he forgets it isn’t normal.

The doctor is almost finished packing when he thinks he hears footsteps downstairs. Victor lifts his head in alarm, but before he can go to investigate the noise, he finds himself thrown sideways onto his back by something; some _one_. He doesn’t recognise the man at first, but craning to look at him, he knows the face of Ethan Chandler anywhere. Victor hasn't seen the American (nor any of his counterparts at Grandage Place, for that matter) in what must be months-assumed he might never do so again- but no, here he is, surely a changed person but here nonetheless.

A sharp pain shoots up Victor's spine as it collides with the floorboards and he hisses in surprise. He wants answers but has no time to begin his analysis of the situation because Ethan's yanking Victor back up again by his shirt and slamming him up against the wooden column nearest the window. " _I know what you did!_ " Ethan roars. " _I know what you did to her!_ " His angry breath is harsh and wet on Victor's face, and the distinctive smell of brandy dazes him even further.  _Her?_ And then he realises. _Brona.He's found out about Brona._

Panic abruptly takes over.Ethan's hand goes around Victor’s neck, and his life begins to flash before his eyes. Fate. Retribution. No matter what he calls it. Ethan is going to kill him. Sure enough, the man’s grip starts to tighten. Victor struggles in vain as the breath squeezes out of him. But then he's being flung across the room, and lands against the table, knocking it- and everything on it- to the ground with a crash.

Victor fumbles amongst broken glass, his head cloudy, his breathing wild. He needs to get away, to save his own life. He tries to stumble onto his feet as Ethan belts towards him again but he's not fast enough, and Ethan kicks him in the stomach to ground him. Victor wheezes, falling back. Shards of his demolished lab equipment cut deep into his palms and he would've cried out if he'd had the breath.

 _"You killed her!"_  Ethan screams. He grabs Victor by the hair and pulls him up so their eyes are level. "You killed her  _then you used her in one of your sick experiments like a fucking doll for you to play with!_ " Victor's regained a sliver of oxygen, just enough so his knee can jolt upwards to hit Ethan hard between the legs. The man yells in pain, dropping Victor and screwing his eyes up, and Victor thinks this is his chance to run, to get away from Ethan, and he may have to flee London and abandon everything he knows here, but it’s a small price to pay if it means he won’t have to face up to his sins- or at least not just yet-

Victor's only halfway down the laboratory stairs before Ethan is on him once more. "You little shit!" he bellows, dragging Victor backwards by the collar. Victor is shoved hard, almost pushed to the floor but he manages to keep his balance. Then in a flash Ethan's hand is gripping the back of Victor's head and he's being slammed face-first repeatedly into the wall.

He can just about hear Ethan cursing but it’s as if he’s a thousand miles away. By the third blow he can taste blood in his mouth. By the fourth, time's seemed to slow down to a devastating crawl, his pain magnified and stretched out over hours, days. And by the fifth time his forehead hits the wall all pain is gone.

 ***

Ethan keeps at it, maddening rage consuming his thoughts and his actions, until the doctor goes limp. He blinks, lets Victor fall to the floor in a bloody mess, stands over him for a while, breathing heavy. Is he dead? Ethan doesn't know,  _doesn't care_ , because that meddling bastard got what was coming to him. The coward deserved it, for every abominable thing he did behind Ethan's back, and for everything he did to  _Brona-_ the woman he loved with all his heart, such an innocent and angelic soul- murdered, tainted, abused by the likes of Victor Frankenstein.

It almost makes Ethan vomit, the sickening betrayal. He can't bear to look at the man any longer. He turns on his heels, screaming and lunges at a shelf, knocking it over. More glass tumbles everywhere with a colossal smash as he storms toward the door.

But before Ethan can descend the rotting wood of the staircase a pang of guilt surges through him. Completely uncalled for, he knows, but it's still there. And, for God's sake, he finds himself looking again to the body of the man he possibly just killed. The doctor is still lying on his back, unmoving, and from where Ethan's stood it's impossible to tell whether he's breathing. _I need to know, at least, if I just murdered someone,_ he thinks, as he retraces his steps to the smaller man's side.

Kneeling down, he presses two fingers to Victor’s neck. Yes, there's a pulse. A misplaced feeling of relief floods through him but he quickly stifles it. He doesn't care about Victor, the murderous scoundrel. The man has no redeeming qualities whatsoever and Ethan would be more than happy to never see him again. At least that's what he insists to himself. And yet.

He's trying to wake the man. He can't even explain it, he just begins to shake his shoulders and speak to him, trying to rouse him. He knows from experience that blows to the head can be fatal, even if not immediately, and maybe it's the thought of sweet Vanessa's reaction to the doctor's death that motivates him, but he keeps going, at first calling "Doctor" but then switching to his first name. But Victor doesn't wake up.

Ethan curses himself for being so short-tempered, so reflexively violent. This was never going to solve anything. No matter what torture he subjects this man to, he can't bring his Brona back. And despite not wanting to admit it, the hole left by Brona's passing has been filled and more by Vanessa Ives ever since. Ethan sighs, looks around him, then back at the unconscious man before him.

"God damn it," he mutters to himself, before reaching down and scooping Victor up in his arms, carrying him in the direction of the stairs, then down them. He wasn't expecting Victor to be awfully heavy, but still he's surprised at how little he weighs. Can't be more than 9 stone.

When Ethan gets to the bed he lays Victor carefully on the mattress. Ethan thinks he feels Victor squirm slightly as he's put down, which is good, but he's still far from waking up, so Ethan unlaces Victor's shoes and slides them off to make him more comfortable, leaving them by the bedside table. 

 _What now,_ he thinks.  _Do I leave him?_ There isn't much more he can do, and he's already made enough of an idiot of himself by nearly killing the doctor then trying to save him immediately afterwards. Victor's face and neck are bruising, now, badly- and he's got some nasty gashes elsewhere from where the shattered glass got in. All, Ethan's doing. Granted, Victor's provocation, and arguably Victor's  _fault_ \- but Ethan's doing nonetheless.

He decides to stay with the man until he wakes up, just to assess the damage he's done. He pours himself a glass of water, necks it, refills the same glass and sets it on the bedside table for when-  _if_ \- the boy stirs. He wonders whether he should try and get the splinters out from Victor's hands but decides he will probably need the doctor's advice on how to do so without making it worse. Ethan pulls up a chair and sits by the bed and  _waits_. He needs a fucking drink.

 ***

It's over half an hour before Victor wakes, but when he does, Ethan jumps to attention. Victor's eyelids slowly flicker open, before screwing tight again. He gives a low whine, places a hand over his brow as if to shield out the world, and then, through his fingers he catches sight of Ethan. A hoarse, panicked sound escaping his throat, he scrambles upright, hisses in pain and then falls backwards off the bed.

A taken aback Ethan gets up to see if Victor's okay. He's now lodged in the narrow gap between the wall and the bedframe and is struggling to get up. "Don't hurt me please, I beg of you, have mercy!" He's spluttering. Ethan takes another step closer and the smaller man curls into a ball. "Please!" He squeaks, pathetic even by Victor's standards. Ethan is quiet for a bit. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he says. A moment passes and Ethan holds out his hand. Victor looks at the hand, then at Ethan. "I find that difficult to believe," he snivels. Ethan rolls his eyes. "For Christ's sake, Doctor, do you want me to help you or not?"

Victor wants to retort that he doesn't need the man's help, he's not a child- but not wanting to further provoke Ethan's temper, he decides to bite his tongue and comply. Reluctantly Victor takes the offered hand, wincing at the pressure it puts on his injuries, and lets Ethan pull him back onto the bed. His mind is foggy- he remembers Ethan's anger, his motive, his grip on Victor's throat, but can't think how he got here or at what point he lost consciousness.

Ethan props Victor upright against the pillow, takes hold of two thin wrists and inverts them so he can see Victor's palms. "Alright. You're gonna need to tell me how I'd best get these out." Victor has no memory of the infliction of these wounds but he does know that they're damned painful, and luckily also how to treat them. Victor swallows and says, "Very well. My bag's just there, by the fireplace." Ethan goes and fetches the leather doctor's bag, setting it on the bed. Directed by Victor, he retrieves a set of thumb forceps and slowly removes each shard and splinter of glass from the man's hands, before sanitizing the wounds with ethanol and bandaging them up.

"Why are you doing this?" Victor asks coldly as Ethan fastens the ends of the bandage on Victor's hand.  

Ethan looks up. "What, you'd prefer me not to?"

"No, I- you gave me these wounds and now you're- I just don't understand-"

“Look, we've all suffered enough already. I know now that if I'd left you, we’d both be suffering even more. If I hadn’t lashed out at you in the first place? Hell, we might even have had it all figured out by now. Just understand, Doc, that I’m working on it. I can’t keep trying to solve my problems with violence. ‘Cause in the end, your pain ain't gonna numb mine. And...and it ain’t gonna bring back the woman I loved.”

Guilt washes over Victor at the mention of her. Brona. Lily. Whatever she is now. And he's filled with dread about what's become of this, how he's put not just himself, but the people all around him in grave danger by what he did with her. "You don't think I deserve to die?" he nearly whispers.

"Not like I do." Ethan responds with a shake of his head, face filled with regret. Victor takes a shaky inhale. How can he ever redeem himself to this man, the man who seems to have forgiven him for a sin he thought was unforgivable? Ethan's avoiding eye contact, looking at the floor, worry lines etched deeply on his brow.

"Why don't you leave me, Mr Chandler? You've done enough, and I'm profoundly grateful for your mercy. Please, go, and by all means you may never see me again." Victor insists. Ethan sees his point. He should shun Victor for the despicable things he did to that woman, for what she turned into as a result. But, he just...can't. He's always had a weakness for saving people. Trying to repent for all the lives he destroyed in the past, he supposes. Ethan chuckles darkly. He still won't look at the man in front of him.

That is, until he feels the doctor's hand atop his, stroking very gently from the side of the palm to the fingers. Ethan narrows his eyes at Victor, who is frowning, looking just as confused as he is. Slowly and without logical consideration Ethan stands up from the chair in which he was sitting, looks down at the boy in silence, but doesn't move away, instead reseating himself on the edge of the bed. Victor opens his mouth, breath hitching. His eyes flutter across Ethan's face with a new and shameful curiosity. Ethan knows he should do as he was told, he should leave- that's what any normal person would do at this moment. But Ethan is not normal. Far from it.

So he stays to feel the return of the doctor's hands, but this time moving up his wrists, more inquisitive than anything else, fingers pressing through fabric to feel the tendons under his skin. The gesture, regardless of its true intent, sends fire through Ethan's veins and again he is consumed by animal instinct. He looks back up at Victor with a desire he has rarely felt before.

He knows for a fact, this is nothing more than emotional displacement. The truth is he loves Vanessa, more than he has ever loved a person, and yet she won't let him in after all this time. She's still angry with him for leaving her, and rightly so. Ethan abandoned her because of his own self-absorption, and no matter what she said, she has not fully forgiven him yet. But it frustrates Ethan, more than he can believe, it really does, that he spent so much time desperately trying to find her, foolishly convinced they could consummate their relationship as soon as they laid eyes on each other again, and he was wrong...

_"Ethan?"_

Surfacing from his thoughts he finds Victor lying directly beneath him on the bed, trembling, his timidness amplified by the fresh bruising on his swollen lips and eyelids. "W- what are we doing?" the boy chokes out. He’s frightened beyond apprehension, even more than when Ethan was beating him. The American doesn't reply, and although the heat of the devil is rushing through him he wills himself to stop, to lean back off Victor where his hands had been pinning the other's down and his knee had somehow found its place between two smaller thighs, to sit back up and turn away. "Nothing," he says finally. Having pummeled the doctor, attempted to treat his injuries, and then... _this_ \- Ethan's officially outstayed his welcome. He needs to snap the fuck out of it.

"You- you were right, Doc. I should go."

Ethan stands up quickly and paces to the door. As he opens it Victor hopes he’ll turn back to look at him, but he doesn’t.

He steps silently out into the hallway and then the door is shut tight again, leaving Victor with two black eyes as the only evidence that he was ever there.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to alternate between Ethan and Victor’s POVs, just cuz I love them both so much I didn’t want to miss out on telling both sides of the story, hope that wasn’t confusing or anything. Also the ambiguity of what ~went down~ between them near the end there is quite deliberate. Feedback of any sort is much appreciated :)


End file.
